


Crossy Road

by johnlock5ever



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, promptfill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 21:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnlock5ever/pseuds/johnlock5ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on this prompt from phanfic.tumblr.com: "So every morning I get off the train and start my 20 minute walk to work, and there’s this guy who’s always like 3 steps ahead of me and always beats me to the street corner bc I get stopped by the light and he passes it. but today I was ahead of him for the first time and he RUNS in front of me, turns around and goes “I’ve been winning for 2 months, can’t stop now, have a good day, see you tomorrow.” tmrw I swear i’m wearing running shoes to work. " a tmblr post that can be used as a prompt!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossy Road

**Author's Note:**

> for two Very Cool friends who have been worried about some things recently - feel better soon!
> 
> ((virtual chocolate chip cookies if you can spot the sherlock reference))

Dan Howell considers himself a pretty sensible guy. Sure, he suffers from the occasional momentary lapse of judgement, but he is by and large not unreasonable (he’s _not_. Seriously.). Which is why when he finds himself considering buying new running shoes in order to get off the train three seconds faster on the way to work, he’s convinced that there’s a perfectly logical explanation. In the form of a tall, skinny man who gets off the train with him and walks just three steps ahead of Dan every single day during his twenty-minute walk from South Kensington Station to his workplace. And ordinarily, Dan wouldn’t mind, honest. It’s just that Mystery Tube Bloke always - _always -_ gets past the goddamned traffic light just before it turns red while Dan is left on the pavement to grumble to himself about having to run to work so he’s not late again. And there’s also the fact that Dan is fairly certain he does it for the sole purpose of rubbing it in Dan's face.

(Even though they’ve never so much as acknowledged each other. But hey. A guy is allowed to trust his gut, right?)

His best friend isn't quite so sure.

“Just shag him already,” Louise says when he calls her during his lunch break to rant about _he’s been doing it for the past three weeks, Louise_  and  _who the hell does he think he is_ and _it’s not fucking fair_. “He’s not doing it on purpose, idiot. You’ve just got such a massive boner for him I can practically feel it from here."

“He’s laughing at me, Louise. I can feel it,” Dan says, keeping his voice calm (because he is a sensible, reasonable adult who is perfectly capable of ignoring ridiculous insinuations, thank you very much). “I need to beat him to the traffic light tomorrow.”

“Ooh, selective hearing!”

“Ooh, perpetual assholery!”

“That’s not even a word, Daniel.”

“Your mum’s not even a word.”

“Remind me how you became a lawyer again?”

“A result of my natural charm and unparalleled eloquence, obviously. Anyways, my lunch hour’s ending. You’re useless and I hate you."

“Love you too, and if you’re screwing Mr Three-Steps-Ahead by the end of the month, you’re buying me a drink,” Louise quips before hanging up. 

Dan really, really hates her sometimes.

\--

Dan Howell considers himself to be a pretty even-tempered bloke. It’s not like he doesn’t yell at people who annoy him (his cat Jonathan, mostly) once in a while, but he is pretty good at controlling his violent tendencies. So when he starts hatching plots to accidentally-on-purpose knock into Wanker From The Tube and vividly imagining the contents of his briefcase strewn on the ground, Dan knows for a fact that he’s _definitely_ been provoked beyond measure. There is simply no other explanation. So as he’s caught up in the arduous task of weighing the pros and cons of each of his different (brilliant, if he does say so himself) plans and stewing in a cloud of resentment, he almost doesn’t notice that his adversary isn’t in front of him today. It’s only when he’s about a metre away from the traffic light that he notices that he’s right in front of the crowd. And also that he has about seven seconds until the green man disappears.

Dan nearly stops in his tracks before mentally kicking himself and reminding his idiot brain how counterproductive that would be. He starts walking as fast as he possibly can without having to be subjected to the   Judgemental Eyes of London’s Rush-Hour Crowd.  Somewhere at the back of his mind, he vaguely registers that this is probably the most childish thing he’s done in his twenty-five years of existence - but if Dan Howell has one flaw (at least, one that he will admit to), it is that he is Competitive. With a capital C. And his Competitiveness is going to get him past the traffic light today. He’s focusing harder than he has done since pretty much his first year of uni. He’s fairly certain that his scrunched-up face of concentration is a thing that five-year-olds have nightmares about, but he doesn’t care. Today’s his day, he’s sure of it-

Until, just as he’s about to step onto the road with a very respectable two seconds to get to the other side, a deep, Northern-sounding voice goes "I’ve been winning for three weeks, can’t stop now, have a good day, see you tomorrow!” in his ear, stopping him dead in his tracks. He barely has time to register what has happened before the vague shape of a black-haired man in a suit whizzes past him. In the few seconds that it takes Dan to gather his wits, the man is already on the other side of the road - and as if that isn’t enough, he turns around to fucking _wink_ at Dan before disappearing into the crowd.

Dan walks the rest of the way in something of a daze. His suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s not just going to let this go. He wants his revenge - he’s out for blood.

-

_To: Louise, 18 Oct 10.38 am_

_i was right_

 

_From: Louise, 18 Oct 10.42 am_

_???_

 

_To: Louise, 18 Oct 10.43 am_

_he ran past me and bloody WINKED at me, lou._

 

_From: Louise, 18 Oct 10.47 am_

_might i expect a happy announcement by the end of this week?_

 

_To: Louise, 18 Oct 10.50 pm_

_stop fking shipping me or i’m revoking ur best friend status_

 

_From: Louise, 18 Oct 11.00 am_

_nah, u love me too much. & i have a feeling i’ll be getting free drinks sooner than i expected_

 

_To: Louise, 18 Oct 11.01 am_

_ur not taking my predicament seriously!!!!_

 

_From: Louise, 18 Oct 11.09 am_

_predicament. right, sorry. here’s some proper advice - remember to use protection!_

 

Dan pointedly ignores Louise for the rest of the day.

-

In a moment of impulsiveness that he’s sure to regret when he’s facing the Judgemental Eyes of London’s Rush-Hour Crowd, Dan switches his very sensible office shoes for trainers when he’s leaving for work the next morning. To be fair, he has no meetings today and his boss doesn’t give a hoot, so his sleep-addled brain figures that it’s a pretty logical next step.

He steps onto the tube purposefully, stands as close to the doors as he can (which earns him a few dirty looks, but he hasn’t got time to care, not today), and is busy people-watching - when a familiar mop of black hair appears in his line of vision. He freezes.

It’s him. The Bane of Dan's Existence. And he’s staring right at Dan’s tatty trainers with a smirk that makes him look so infuriatingly attractive that Dan isn’t sure if he wants to slap the guy or just push him against a wall and snog the living daylights out of him. 

He settles for looking away and ignoring the flush that is inevitably rising in his cheeks because he simply _can’t_ let Louise have the satisfaction of knowing that she was right. Besides, they’re in a public place, so there’s that.

(He tells himself that the order in which those two excuses popped into his head isn’t at all worrying.) (It is.)

Dan spends the rest of the journey surreptitiously trying to look at the man - no mean feat, considering that they’re standing mere centimetres away from each other. And since the universe seems to enjoy making his life exceptionally difficult, the object of his scrutiny catches him looking and holds Dan's gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. By this point, Dan is pretty sure his whole face is red. He wills himself to stop because _the guy might have the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen_ but _that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a complete jerk, Howell_.

He’s saved from further embarrassment by the train arriving at South Kensington station. When the doors slide open, Dan is prepared. He strides ahead the crowd with as much grace as he can muster. He’s in front, there’s no question about that. His heart is beating incredibly fast. He _really_ needs to win today to make up for his awkwardness on the tube - and he is going to.  Moving forward with reckless abandon, Dan approaches the traffic light with nine seconds to get to the junction and cross the road. The blinking numbers seem to be speaking to him, urging him on. He breaks into a run, confident that luck is on his side.

Right before he promptly trips over his shoelaces and falls flat on his face.

(At this point, it is worth remembering that the universe often goes out of its way to ensure that Dan Howell makes a fool of himself. So it isn’t his fault, not really.)

Dan winces, gingerly touching his nose - he’s going to have to get that checked out. He pushes himself into a sitting position. From the corner of his eye, he can see a concerned crowd gathering around him, and he desperately wills the ground to open up, swallow him whole, and put him out of his misery.

“I’m fine, it’s fine, sorry,” he announces, avoiding eye-contact with anyone in the crowd. People start moving on with their lives, one by one, as Dan kneels down to gather his scattered belongings. One person, however, walks over and just stands next to Dan, looking over his shoulder. Dan is about to ask him what he wants, but when he turns around to look at the man, the question dies in his throat.

It’s _him_. Of course, it just had to be.

Dan stares. The man smirks. They stay like that for a few more seconds until Dan decides that he should probably break the awkward silence.

“You- this is your fault!” he splutters, pulling himself up to his full height. He notes with great pleasure that he is taller than the other man. If the nagging little voice at the back of his head (which sounds suspiciously like Louise, to be honest) tells him that this is because the height difference is perfect for him to rest his chin on the latter’s head, he ignores it.

“Call me Phil. And hey, it’s not my fault you fell for me!” the man - Phil - replies. His voice is rich and deep and _oh for Christ’s sake, Howell, keep it in your pants_. He opens his mouth to reply in his usual scathing fashion, but he can’t think of anything to say. He closes his mouth again. Phil laughs - a lovely, tinkling laugh.

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry, I was just having a bit of fun and I didn’t realise how competitive you are. Let me make it up to you. How long do you have before you have to get to work?” he says with a smile. A genuine one, which makes his eyes light up and _gosh_ Dan's supposed to hate the guy but he thinks that Phil’s smile could probably light up a whole town.

“About twenty minutes."

“Splendid. Enough for a quick coffee, then. My treat.”

-

What starts off as a “quick coffee” ends up becoming a four-hour conversation at Starbucks. Phil is a graphic designer who loves animals, Muse, horror movies, and caramel macchiatos, and if Dan wasn’t already smitten before he definitely is now. He isn’t even sure how the hours fly by and by the time they realise that they were supposed to go to work, it’s far too late to do anything about it, so Dan invites Phil to his flat for a round of Mario Kart instead. 

(Phil is terrible compared to Dan, but the little noise he makes when he manages to beat Dan on his fifteenth try is so adorable that Dan might actually consider losing on purpose just to hear it again.)

\--

Dan Howell is not an impulsive person. Of course, he has his rare moments of recklessness, but meticulous planning is his specialty. But _to heck with caution_ , Dan decides when Phil is lounging on his sofa later that afternoon looking so incredibly content and Dan has a sudden, reckless urge to close the distance between them and press his lips to Phil’s.

So he does.

-

_ To: Louise, 20 Oct 5.43 am _

_ 8 pm tmr, the tavern. drinks r on me. _

_ \-- _

_ fin. _


End file.
